


Skin to Skin

by topatroltragedy



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Thunderbolts (Comics)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fun with Karla's Costume, POV Third Person Omniscient, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stripping, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 07:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14444055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topatroltragedy/pseuds/topatroltragedy
Summary: Being able to generate your own costume at will has some perks.Or: Moonstone and Hawkeye get creative in the bedroom with Karla's power set .





	Skin to Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Clint's leadership tenure of the Tbolts.
> 
> All my love and thanks to farevenasdecidedtouse for beta'ing this. You are the best <3

**Skin to Skin**

It was so quiet in the room that the rustling of the sheets as Karla shifted on the bed may as well have been an earthquake passing through. She lay there on the bed, her legs stretched out, her hands lying on top of her stomach, utterly relaxed and at peace with herself and the world. She was still clad in her Meteorite suit, even wearing her mask, an attire that was far more comfortable than it had any right to be.

The moonlight peeking through the curtains was the only source of light in the room, and she bathed in it, the shell of her costume shining with it much in the manner of the eyes of a cat.

Somewhere in the shadows stood Clint.

Watching.

Waiting.

She could not see his face, but she nevertheless she felt his gaze on her. It didn’t take a degree in psychology to tell that he was getting impatient. But it was her game they were playing, with her rules.

And the number one rule was that he was not to move until she commanded him to.

The Meteorite suit clung to her body like a cocoon from which she yearned to emerge. Karla made it change, made it shift, and when Clint made a strangled sound between a groan and a frustrated moan somewhere in the dark, she had to stifle a laugh. Men could be so easy.

Oh, she truly did not need to see his face to make an educated guess what he was thinking – _had Karla’s costume gotten even tighter and highlighted the curves of her body in all the places he liked best?_

Right now Clint’s assessment of her was as simple – she was smoking hot, and he wanted her.

Clint wasn’t one for fancy words or poetry, but he was earnest and wore his heart on his sleeve in a way that was as charming as it was grating to Karla. The thought of being this open herself, her desires for all the world to see, was like nails on a chalkboard to her.

And then Clint sighed so loudly it shook her quickly from this line of thought.

There was time for thinking later. Now it was time to play, and she, too, was growing impatient.

Karla leaned against the bed, wiped a loose strand of hair from her face, and smiled.

“Come,” she said. ”I am done waiting.”

Her tone was all arrogance and all tease. She raised her arm much in the manner of a lady calling for her manservant, motioning him with her finger to come to her.

“Comin’,” was the answer she received, and Clint sounded amused. Part of their arrangement for tonight was that they were both to be clothed until Karla gave the command.

“Undress for me.”

And for once, Clint obeyed her like a good little soldier. Karla beamed like the cat that caught the canary. Their fearless leader was just a boy, after all.

He pulled off his shirt as he stepped to bed and carelessly threw it into the corner of the bedroom, narrowly missing the vase of flowers on the dresser which shook and trembled before it settled with a clink. His pants were next to go before he knelt down on the soft mattress stepping into the moonlight, giving Karla an opportunity to finally see him as more than a shape in the darkness.

He was still dressed in his boxers where his hardening cock made a small but visible – and more importantly, growing - tent.

Calling the bed they were on big was an absurd understatement. There was a good couple of feet  from where her feet rested to where Clint was kneeling on the mattress. The owner they had “borrowed” it from had either been an overcompensating rich idiot, a Master of Evil-slash-Avengers wannabe who designed it with people like Atlas or Giant Man in mind, or had simply wanted a bed to host orgies on. Either way, it served their purpose for the night well.

Clint crawled to her on all fours like a dog, his cock hanging visibly between his legs, and suddenly Karla decided that the absurdly sized bed was the best idea anyone ever had. Clint stopped moving stopping inches away from her feet.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

Karla was watching him, intent on reminding him of predator waiting to pounce on her prey.

Clint grabbed her right leg by the calf and moved it up gently to his face. He pressed a kiss against the tip of her shoes where the knuckles of Karla’s toes were. And where his lips pressed against the costume, the costume dissolved in response, revealing warm, milky skin.

And though Karla did her best to look merely amused by what he was doing, the little pricks of gooseflesh on her skin told anyone paying enough attention another story. And Clint clearly did.

He pressed a series of feather-light kisses to the side of her ankle, and she shuddered. He moved up so that he could kiss her calf, then moved even further so that he could kiss the spot just beneath her knee.

And when he kissed that spot, Karla let the costume dissolve on her right leg in its entirety, the sight of it reminiscent of water turning to steam on a hot surface. Karla smiled and then raised her leg on his shoulder, hooking it, pulling him closer to her.

“What an interesting spot to kiss me, Barton,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of want,”I think next time I’ll just make you call me ‘queen’ and massage my feet.”

Then she held her index finger beneath her chin, and Clint stared, obviously anticipating what was coming next. She moved it along her throat in a deliberately slow manner,  her mask and suit opening up like a blossoming flower beneath her fingertips.

There she stopped, and looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

“…but I can think of better places where I want you to kiss me.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice. Clint moved over to sit down at Karla’s side, his face so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath touch her skin. He pressed a kiss against Karla’s neck, first lightly, then with force, and Karla purred, the vibrations of it echoing against Clint’s lips.

He nipped at her throat and pressed a kiss against her jawline before Karla grabbed him and pulled him off with enough force that he could feel the pain in his scalp where she had grabbed his hair.

Clint shuddered. Karla could see what her grip was doing to him. His face was an open book to her  - it hurt, yes, but it was the sweet kind of pain that sent a jolt through his spine and straight to his cock, and his boxers must have felt very, very tight all of a sudden.

He smiled against her lips.

And then she kissed him, deeply and passionately, with a force meant to leave little forget-me-nots to tell to all the world that he was hers and hers alone. She pushed and he pulled, or he pulled and she pushed. Lost in the haze she didn’t know anymore.

His right hand was cupping her breasts and she felt his warmth even through the shell of costume. Her suit must have been cold beneath his hands, the material created by her moonstone unlike any other either of them knew, and worst of all for Clint, it wouldn’t budge.

Karla didn’t let it. All the better to drive Clint to the edge of madness.

“Kiss me,” she whispered but when he moved to press a kiss on her lips, good boy that he was, she held up a finger to stop him.

“Kiss me,” she said again, her finger sliding down his lips, her sharp fingernail grazing first her upper, then her lower lip, staying there. And that was when it seemed to dawn on Clint what exactly she meant.

His lips met her throat just beneath her jaw, and from there he pressed kiss after kiss on her metal-skin, working his way downwards. Clint took his time with intent, soaking in every hitch of breath from Karla’s lips, every little needy sigh Karla could not suppress in time.

He must have felt every vibration of her throat against his lips, felt her pulse beneath them, felt her life pump steadily through her veins, felt _her_.

By the time he had reached her collarbone it was as if an eternity and yet no time at all had passed. Where he placed his kisses, Karla’s costume opened up like a present he pried open with the touch of his lips. But when he pressed a kiss in the space between her breasts nothing happened.

Karla wanted to laugh – _you didn’t think I would make it this easy for you, right?_

Clint looked up a Karla, whose face was flushed ever so slightly. He really should have known that her being a control freak would extend to the bedroom, too.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, the look on his face a perfect display of irritation mixed with impatience. And then asked, ever so drily:

“Open sesame?”

The only response he got from Karla was a snort.

“Don’t just leave a guy hanging there, Karla. Do you need me to beg?” Clint made a grand gesture with his arms, stretching them wide,”oh, queen of love and beauty, bare thy bosom to me-“

Whether it was Clint’s complaining or his groveling, (it was the groveling) Karla was convinced. She stopped an inch or two beneath her navel, revealing just enough skin to entice but not more. She was teasing him with cleavage, still more than halfway covered by her costume, her flesh pressed ever so tightly against her chest.

Karla sighed and bit her lower lip. She stared at Clint as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’

Clint wasn’t dumb.  Karla knew that he knew what she wanted. First he couldn’t wait and now _he_ was taking his sweet time?

But then he pressed a kiss against the skin of her right breast, clearly expecting it when her costume wouldn’t budge. Karla, however, shuddered ever so lightly when his lips met her skin. He looked at her with a smile on his face and pressed a soft trail of kisses down her skin until he stopped at her navel, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his thumbs pressing into her soft skin. She felt goosebumps raise on her belly, and she shuddered and moaned.

“Lower,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire, and he _heard_ , ”lower.”

And so he kissed her lower, her costume melting away like a flower coming into bloom, until the upper mound of her sex was revealed to him. It trembled when his lips brushed against it and Clint moved to bury his nose in it, to breathe her in. Karla clutched the sheets, her own patience stretched to its limits, her need for him winning against her own self-control. And so she revealed herself in full to him, her lower body and legs now completely free from the constraints of her maddeningly tight costume.

And for all her self-control and composure she was hot and wet and ready for him, the lips of her sex shining with wetness. He had let go of her breasts and used his now free hands to open her up for him, so that he could finally bury his face in the space between legs.

This, they both knew, he was good at.

With confidence, he pressed one last teasing kiss against the inner side of her thighs before delving in. He started at her clit, flicking his tongue over it in quick strokes before kissing it then suckling it. She could feel his stifled groans against her cunt, knew that he was enjoying the first taste of it on his tongue, salty and warm.

He took his time, explored her over and over again as if it was the first time they fucked, nipped at her like _this_ , licked her like _that_ . Felt her shiver and tremble and shudder when he hit this special little spot or that one, heard her moan and hiss and sigh when he hit it just right. She hitched her legs on his shoulders so that he could access her better, tightened her legs’ grip around him as she tried to make him go deeper, harder, _more_.

He gladly indulged her, licked the lips of her sex, suckled them and her clit, explored her folds and her hole and her clit both, always looking for new ways to bring her pleasure and illicit a moan or two from her. Clint told her once it was his goal to eat her out so well that she stopped thinking straight. He was dangerously close to it now.

Karla ground herself against him in a merciless rhythm which in turn threw off Clint’s, turning it into a power struggle where each of them was determined to control the pace of their coupling. She kept him in a grip so tight she was certain he got the feeling that she was trying to smother him like this. And he was relentless as well, exploring every inch of her with his tongue again and again, feeling the trembling of her cunt, the way she tried to draw him in deeper, tighter.

They were a mess of tangled limbs and moans and stifled screams as Karla neared climax.  Clint would definitely have bruises on his neck and face from this the next day, but it was worth it. For Karla, anyway. She had to bite her hand to prevent from giving the other Bolts downstairs an advanced course on the bird and bees.

And then Karla shuddered once, twice, her cunt twitching against Clint’s mouth and around his tongue. She closed her eyes and bit her lips, her breathing agitated and uneven.

Karla rocked herself against his face, her moans coming from deep within her throat, drawing her own pleasure out as much as she could, using Clint as a mere prop in that moment, before she loosened her grip on his hair as well as her legs so that they were no longer wrapped around his head tightly enough to smother him.

When they disentangled, Clint looked up to take a marvel his work. From the corner of her eyes she saw him beam with pride at his ability to make her lose herself in the pleasure.

She knew from experience that his neglected cock was hard and dripping with pre-come by now to the point that it was almost painful but he could wait a little longer. She hoped he could, at least. Karla would never let him live it down if he didn’t.

Her face felt red and flushed and she noticed only now that she had bit her lip hard that a thin streak of blood was running down her chin. Karla’s cunt was still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm and she was breathing so hard that her stomach was visibly shaking with every breath she took. Clint appeared to be less out of breathe than she was, even if though he was panting, too.

And of course, when Clint caught his breath and regained his cocksure composure, the first thing he did was to ask:

“Done a great job, haven’t I, Dr. Sofen?”

He said it in the most self-satisfied, smug tone Karla had ever heard, and she had been around Baron Zemo.

Karla laughed and waved her hand in dismission.

“It was alright, Barton. A six-and-a-half out of ten, maybe, you could stand to improve your technique.”

It was a point of pride for her to make this sound casual, but her voice was a filthy traitor and trembled ever so slightly with every word.

“Woah, harsh,” Clint smirked as he sat down next to her on the bed, “Don’t be like that, Karla, you are hurting this guy’s feelings.”

“You should be used to it by now,” she quipped.

Her still-costumed hands roamed down his chest, trailing downwards until they arrived at his boxers. Her hands fondled the bulge through his boxers, mindful of her claws. Going by Clint’s strained hiss and it took all his self-control not to come right there and then. Good.

Karla hummed.

“Let’s take care of this, shall we? I think you earned it with your performance tonight.”

“Oh, so _now_ I was good?”

Karla didn’t dignify that with a response, although it did make her smile, if just a little. Clint was surely counting that as a victory.

“Condoms are on the nightstand,” she said and Clint didn’t need to be told twice before grabbing one.

But before he could finally get out of his boxers shorts, Karla had grabbed him, slammed him flat on his back on the bed, and straddled him with her thighs.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Clint forgot how strong she was.

He didn’t forget often – it was hard to forget about Karla’s powers when they were out in the field and Karla was sliding through walls or slamming _other_ people through those walls – but it tend to slip his mind when they were intimate together.

But that was okay.

Karla was more than happy to remind him that she could fuck him through the bed if she wanted to. And mind you, Clint liked it when she did that.

So she proceeded to further help him remember her strength by tearing his boxer shorts off him as if it was tissue paper. The look of shock on Clint’s face was quickly replaced with a loopy grin. She could tell that he was loving this.

On that note, Clint ripped open the condom’s package.

“May I?” he asked, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we are ready for a child. Though I am sure Hallie would make an awesome babysitter.”

Karla studied him for second.

No. That was not something she wanted to think about, now or later, so she moved to let Clint reach his cock more easily. She watched him slip on the condom with ease and practice.

Before he could do anything else, however, Karla pinned him on his back with a hand to his chest, the bed shrieking to life beneath them with a creaking sound, clearly unprepared for her showing off, too. Then she pressed a kiss against Clint’s lips, startling him with the gentleness of it.

_You’ll be the death of me one day_ , his eyes seemed to say.

Karla swatted his hand away from his cock the way she’d swat a fly and grabbed it herself, and Clint gasped at the feeling of her warm hand on his dick. She felt it twitch in her grasp. Clint looked at her with glazed eyes, his breath coming in short and quick, a bead of sweat running down his forehead.

She grabbed his cock and positioned her groin above his, ready to slide onto him, more than ready to feel him inside her. Clint trusted up his hips, clearly sharing the sentiment, the head of his cock briefly brushing over her damp slit, sliding over her lower lips, before Moonstone jerked away.

“We are still playing this by my rules, Clint.”

He nodded.

She moved to sit down only to raise up again immediately the moment she felt the head of his cock pulse against her cunt, only ever allowing the most brief of touches, only permitting him a brief taste of her before taking it away.

Clint shuddered, and hissed, and whispered, low and needy “please, Karla.”

She was not a mindreader but she could imagine his thoughts right now rather vividly, anyway.

_Please. I want you. Please, don’t make me embarrass myself by letting me come like some teen having his cherry popped. You’d never let me live that one down._

At  some point even Karla had enough of teasing him, and finally after what felt like an eternity, she positioned his cock between her cunts’ lips and slid down onto him. She felt her cunt engulfing the head of his dick, felt it stretching her, warm and tight and so very _good_ , rocking against him at a deliberately slow pace, letting him feel her. She had him pinned on the bed with a hand to his chest and her hips grinding against his.

She saw Clint closing his eyes, moaning as he felt her warmth, her need, her _everything_.

Karla let out a long, breathy groan, half lust, half agony when she snapped her hips so that his cock was buried inside her to the hilt, as deep as it could go as she threw her head back as his cock was buried inside her as deep as possible. She threw her head back with a sigh, strands of hair tickling her face in the process.

She savored the moment, the feeling of him inside her. The feeling of her around him.

(In that moment, Clint watched her, trying to catch every small change in her movements. The expression of her face – her eyes closed, her mouth open, her hips shaking, her hair disheveled – he couldn’t stop staring. Unbidden, he thought that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.)

And then she began to move.

From the corner of her eyes Karla saw him bite his fist to strangle a scream as Karla rocked against him. Her pace was merciless, the wet and sloppy noises of sex filling the air.

She drove herself against him with enough force to bruise, stabilizing herself with her hand on Clint’s chest.

He turned his face to the side and bit into the pillow with a most delicious moan. He closed his eyes as if to focus on the feeling of her body against his.

Karla felt so tight, so warm, so good when she was with him. And it became clear that neither of them would last much longer.

She gasped when his cock hit one of her sensitive spots and the shock of it caused the last shreds of her costume to melt away like leaves in the wind, leaving her completely naked at last.

Karla’s hand moved away from his chest and the movement of her hips slowed down. Clint’s cock almost slipped out of her as she momentarily lost control over the rhythm. She grabbed Clint’s hands and guided them to her chest.

“Touch me,” she commanded and he followed. His hands were cupping her breasts, his thumbs burying themselves in her soft flesh as she regained her pace.

He rolled her nipples between his fingers, gently and it worked like a charm, eliciting soft moans from Karla, her throat vibrating with them as she tried to swallow them, biting her lips.

The rocking of her hips became faster as the rhythm of her trusts grew more irregular, and she her cunt starting to twitch around him, gripping him more tightly, as if to milk him for his seed.

Clint bit the pillow hard enough that his teeth must have hurt when she finally felt him come, white and hot and trembling, his hips rising to meet Karla’s, trusting up against her, inside her, deeper, harder, _more_.

Karla followed suit seconds after.

Clint had once told her that Karla was the quietest lover he had ever known. Even overstimulated from him eating her out, her orgasm came unbidden and quietly and showed itself in a sharp trust of her hips, the tightening and shuddering of her cunt and a long a long drawn out moan as she rode out the last aftershocks of her orgasm.

And then it was over.

Before long, they were left panting, both worn out, not just from sex, but from the day of heroics and fighting finally catching up with them as the adrenaline wore off, making way for bone-deep exhaustion.

Karla slipped off him, and Clint moved to take of the condom as Karla laid down on the soft mattress – which she only now noticed they had torn to shreds.

Oops.

If the former owner had intended to hold orgies on this bed, they had decided to be stingy with money in the wrong place. She didn’t bother to put on a pajama or underwear or anything like that, and Clint obviously couldn’t be bothered to give a damn, either.

Meanwhile she heard Clint going to the bathroom, presumably to throw the used condom in the bin. Karla moved around to watch him when he decided to turn on the light in the bathroom.

She was about to tell him to close the door if he wanted to use the toilet but instead Clint was taking a long hard look at himself in the mirror above the sink. She didn’t have the best angle to see his face from where she laid on the bed, but what she saw was enough.

Clint’s lips were bruised and swollen, and there were fingerprint shaped bruises were Karla had pinned him, and when had she grabbed his arms, anyway?

It was not a case of Karla being unable to control herself, no, she left those forget-me-nots very much with intent, and she knew Clint liked it that way, liked it _rough_. Liked that he could lose himself with her, in her, and not have to think for one moment.

Liked that he could pry open her armor a bit and make her lose control.

Then Clint startled her from her thoughts by turning on the sink to wash his face before finally going to bed, too. He laid down next to her embracing her from behind.

He wrapped his arms around her torso, playing the big spoon. He buried his face in her hair. He seemed to love her hair. She felt him breathing her in, and she must have smelled of sex and sweat, and they both needed a shower badly in the morning.

A secret, silly part of her couldn’t imagine better than going to sleep like this with him every night.

“I love you,” he whispered against her ear.  

There it was again.

His annoying habit to wear his heart on his sleeve for all the world to know. He probably couldn’t help it. It was pathological. And Karla swore that she had just imagined herself stiffening in his arms.

It didn’t matter to her at all.

“Go to sleep, Clint.”

Clint chuckled, but it was half-hearted. She felt him relax against her back and soon he was fast asleep. Lucky him.

Meanwhile Karla laid in his arms and stared into the dark for a long time, deep in thought before finally sleep took mercy on her, too.

As her eyes fell shut, a traitorous thought entered her mind – one day she might bring herself to say “me, too”, and mean it. She didn’t know where that thought had come from. And frankly, she didn’t want to know.

She fell asleep before she could ponder the matter further.

Tomorrow would be another day, after all.


End file.
